The Hunter's Curse
by Eomer4Lothiriel
Summary: The Valar have one last message for the kingdom of Men before their Dominion and for the last of the Elves about to depart. A secret mission for the Hunter to fulfill his last tasks in the world he hunted in.
1. Chapter 1 Orome

The ship had sailed smoothly on the calm ocean for the entirety of the voyage, Ulmo be ever blessed. I see the mountains looming ahead, just how they said. I am utterly shocked, not only from being part of the flooding, but also seeing those mountains from where I once rode and fought.

"My lord?" the captain asks. "We are sure you will know, but the Lord Cìrdan has sent word to us that you are the last ship to come back."

"I will not be coming back," I face him to answer his unspoken question. "Not until the last ship to the West."

He nods. "As you will my lord."

I walk up to the prow, to watch the coastline and the Gulf of Lhûn greet us with the white gulls. Cìrdan waits on the dock for us. We embrace warmly when I jump off the prow's edge.

"Two and a half ages has passed my friend," he says with a sad smile. "Yet you journey one last time?"

"After this day my lord, there will be no more ships coming back as they used to," I reply.

"Come, we will talk inside as the ladies fuss over the your things," he leads me to his office. "The land has not changed am I right?"

"Very little since you left," I answer. "I see you and your people have been kept busy since the floods the Valar and I had caused."

"And nearly all of them in Arda," he offers me a goblet of wine, which I accept with a smile. "But you have come back."

"There was some matters left untended that I have long forgotten," I sit on the open windowsill and look at the gulls. "Manwë granted me this last journey to complete them."

"I will not ask for any details on how you managed to do that," he winks. "Knowing you, you have already completed one of those tasks."

I chuckle. "I have. I will be leaving this afternoon; inland and finish them."

"I will say the mandatory 'May the Valar watch over you'," he clasps my shoulder.

"They already do Cìrdan," I smile, taking a long look at the buildings. "They already do."

I see flickers of movement, colours, through the buildings. Nearly all of my instincts are telling me to go, go and see but I decide against it. A cloaked person steps out from an archway across the dock and lifts a drawn bow, aimed, what seems to be me. I dodge before it is released and breakes the glass window. Cìrdan runs to the window ledge with a look of absolute rage.

"Arahael!" he bellows. "I told you to never break another window for practice again! You know precisely what this visit means to your father. Go back to your lodgings and for your father's sake, don't harass me for the next two hours!"

He rolls his eyes at me as he sits down heavily, gestures to the now uncloaked girl and scoffs.

"Luckily she isn't mine," he takes a long sip of his wine. "Arahael, the King Elessar's first daughter."

"A good eye for archery too," I pick up a large shard of glass. "How long has she been here?"

"A week," he replies. "Another two days and I will finally have peace for the time being without her troublesome ways until her next visit. You would think she has enough contact with the elves from Mirkwood than most to not harass me!"

"She is that bad?" I ask with a chuckle. "Out of all my long years, I have not seen you so agitated and oppressed by a young lady."

A neigh comes from the window. I smile. It is time.

"Cìrdan, I am leaving you be," I shake his hand in mine and with a friendly nudge of the elbow, I walk out of the door. "It was a merry meeting, and I will see you in the West I hope."

"Not coming back here?" he escorts me back to the docks.

I look at him sideways. He knows too well I'm not coming back this way. The land lost is too grievous for me.


	2. Chapter 2 Orome

The horse flickers it's ears towards my approach, he called me, he knew it was time to go.

"Nahar," I greet him. "My old friend, you are still as impatient to leave just as old times."

He bobbed his head before pulling the shoulder of my cloak playfully.

"Alright," I chuckle. "Let us go then! We go to Carn Dûm, and hunt some orc."

I volt up onto his back and he rears up and neighs loudly, leaving the Mithlond echoing. We are now ready to set foot on new horizons. Lhûn's waters briskly run southward as we travel north at it's side. Two little crumbled stone huts are nestled under the trees up ahead in the two arms of water that create the Lhûn, it is here I sort my meagre belongings properly. Valaróma, four shirts weaved by Vairë, corresponding to the four tasks I need to complete, a great sword; forged by Aulë for me from when the world was young and my bow of old. The rivers slow, quiet flow begin to become deafening, I turn unafraid. I see him, the watery form of Ulmo knee-high in the water.

I bow. "Ulmo, well met old friend."

"Well met indeed," his familiar deep rolling voice echoes dimly. "You have come at last."

"Yes," I reply. "I believe peace has not yet come to Forodwaith."

He shook his oceanic hair in agreement. "Not yet Oromë. You will have to leave soon before events of the last twenty-five years reach those lands. The raids, the battles of Erebor and Esgaroth and the Morannon, Mount Gundabad still being inhabited in its roots by orcs. The damage can only get worse now that the land has found peace again."

"Four tasks Ulmo," I inform him. "There are four incomplete tasks to be done. I leave when the fourth task is done and some personal issues are dealt with."

Ulmo reached into his water form's chest and reaches out for me to take something from his hand. I extend my hand and he secretively puts the object into it and closes my fingers around it. He looks into my eyes.

"Hunt them down," he urges quietly. "Hunt them down, that is your first task, I do not know what your other burdens are but, the girl, she can be of some use. I have already said too much Oromë. Farewell."

"Thank you Ulmo," I bow deeply. "Farewell."

He bows back and his aquatic build sinks and disperses into the river. The roar dims and the river resumes it's slow pace again. I open my hand to see a circular silver brooch, with three horses, a pattern connecting them all. I smile broadly, the heiress of Elendil can help me in my last few missions on this earth. This is going to be an interesting year. Nahar bickers about the oncoming storm rolling towards us from Ered Luin, and I laugh.

"You and I have to outrun it then," I smirk. "Easily done than said."

He agrees as I rearrange my pack and volt onto his back. The storm growls as it approaches us, and Nahar leaps into a steady canter towards the northern edge of Emyn Uial. Before night fall, the Emyn Uial is a fading bruise of hills and the mountains of Angmar hang above us with crooked from in the fading sun. This place is rocky, barren; a merciless landscape that hides it's former glory under the rocks, rotting logs, spindly weeds and loose grey dust. Carn Dûm, the old fortress of one fallen Witch king of Angmar. A diseased, blackened heart mind and soul of a man.

Darkness has always been defeated; the shadows may be dark, but that only means there is a light shining from somewhere else. The crumbled towers in the twilight are jagged teeth, a mortally wounded animal trying to hold on to life. Mist and cloud descend upon us. It will be a cold and blind night, Nahar and I will do without a fire tonight, Ulmo has warned us not to from his mist and cloud.


	3. Chapter 3 Araheal

The timeless elf, the young mortal woman and picnic amongst the trees of fair, revived Ithilien. A strange sight, but who would be around to see us? I never thought I would be allowed to be here. And I could hardly believe my luck when I was told I was to be accompanied by the Prince of Mirkwood. Especially since he is meant to be in a conference right now with my Father and other officials. It is strange to be alone with him, he knows me so well, since I was days old, that we don't have to talk about affairs of our own countries. He looks up at me from his fingers, entwined with a lengthening daisy chain.

"What is like being you?" he asks suddenly.

I gaze at him in confusion. "In what way?"

"Being, you know," he shrugs.

"A young woman?" I suggest, he smiles. "Princess of the Renewed Kingdom, daughter of the Elessar, a wild uncontrollable lass, oh, a rebel child who breaks windows with arrows?"

"No!" he laughs, his face merry but his voice sad and serious. "Being mortal."

This makes my stomach drop, as an icy cold spreads through me. "Mortal," I mutter and I think of my history lessons and my hunting experiences with Father and I smile at Legolas. "That's a question for my mother. Why ask me when you can ask her?"

"A clever argument," he says with a nod. "I've already asked her. She replied that she had not the heart to answer and told me you can answer it. So, here I am, asking you instead."

"Eru gave us the gift of death," I start, thinking carefully on my words. "It is both a blessing and a curse just as an elf's immortality is. Seeing the world grow slowly, and seeing little change in the some cases and also seeing much change; observing the growth of a tiny sapling to a tree that your grandchildren with play under, taking part in wars that end in friendship or death. Living and dyeing like the animals and creatures that fly, walk and swim on the earth. We are but the same as those deer in the forest, the horses in Rohan, the cows in the meadow, the dogs, the wolves, the insects, the birds. While we live, we contribute to the wonders of life and when it is our turn to leave the never-ending story of the world, we die, just like the animals and plants in their turn. The game eats the grass and then we eat the game and when we die we become the grass and the game eat the grass and so on. A continuous circle and we therefore never die in a matter of speaking. And I'll tell you a secret. Something them tutors don't teach you in your forests and in those history books. The Valar and Maia envy us. They envy us because we are mortal, because any moment might be our last. Everything is more beautiful because we are doomed. You will never be lovelier than you are now. We will never be here again. _That_ is mortality, Legolas."

He looks away and finishes his daisy chain. A silence between us, I look up to the canopy leaves, how they shimmer in the light of the afternoon sun. Then he leans closer to me placing a thick crown of daises on my head and smiles.

"You look beautiful princess," he brushes the hair from my face before standing up. "I am going to walk to the river for water, stay here."

I nod. "Of course Legolas."

I understand his situation, he needs time to reflect on my words and to make sure that I am safe. It is strange to think that it has been just three months since my visit to the Grey Havens in the north, and the danger in those regions mysteriously decrease ten, hundred maybe a thousandfold. My Father's rangers have been just as surprised at this as he is. I help myself to the well-organised assortment of fruit while I wait.


	4. Chapter 4 Legolas

I arrive with the buckets full, and places them with the horses. I have to be calm and myself before I walked to river, otherwise she will suspect something is wrong. I begin to tell a story about our Fellowship's quest through Moria, she smiles, I know she has heard this part many times, from Gimli, the Perian, her father. I can see her eyes twinkle with marvel and awe at the story; the darkness of the chasm beneath the Bridge, the flames and fear of the Balrog, the fall of Mithrandir, the escape to Lothlórien. I find myself smiling at her, so enchanted by my words. The world has started to breath again since those darkened days. I look up to the sun, and we prepare our short ride to Emyn Arnen. I am not to tell her; I was sworn an oath to the Hunter himself not to tell her. Love, it is always love for your friends, who are brothers and sisters separated by race. Love for them will have consequences if you hold secrets against them that are so dark. I sing the lay of Nimrodel to pass the time. There she rides, side by side with me, on the horse she has ridden since both were very young. A light breeze catches the leaves and I know he is following. His love for my people is strong. I am sure he will not interfere with my charge yet. We draw near to the gates Emyn Arnen, and are greeted by Lord Faramir and the Lady Éowyn. Our horses are taken to the stables and we are escorted by the Prince and his wife through the now prosperous gardens to the white house.

"You have had your beautiful long hair cut off!" Lady Éowyn scowls. "It is a terrible deed to do!"

"I cannot express how much you appear," Faramir says in wonder to Arahael, "an image of your father from the distance, especially with that hair cut short Arahael."

"I wanted it to be cut," she explains, "So I can ride alone without being recognised as myself, only recognised as one of your Ithilien Rangers."

The Steward laughs. "Or as your father."

She smiles. The two ladies continue to the house, as Faramir stays here.

"What has possessed that young lady?" he interrogates.

"I for one," I begin, "know that she wants to become a Captain of her people, and as we both see a young lady, not a child."

"Have we not helped her not make such rash choices?" he snickers with a smile. "Well, I am one to relate. Comparable and contrasted to Éowyn."

"Indeed," I agree.

"My friends, there are other matters at hand that need be dealt with; as you know the northern Kingdom has finally met peace again, but there is a faint rumour under strict observation and confinement."

Faramir's face begins to reflect his agitation, and worry at this. "So I have heard from the King himself only this week, he would not speak of it aloud as he seemed quite disturbed by it. He has, in private, told me. I fear this rumour is true and dangerous, is it not?"

I only have to look into his eyes for his answer. "I fear so."

"Let us discuss this matter before Lord Aragorn himself."

The light turns to twilight as I walk the gardens after supper. The garden has flourished since I have tended them carefully twenty-five years ago. The Hunter is here, his presence is the call of the hunt of those grotesque orcs and fell beasts of old. From the lore of my people, he left us to tend to the Hunt ourselves, but since he has appeared to me today, I know he has been assigned to a mission from Manwë, he had told me so. My longing for Valinor stirs as he took shape, the light of Valinor glints in the near darkness. I bow deeply with my hand over my heart.

"We will negotiate our treaty soon," he waves his hand.

I hesitate at the close proximity of his presence.

"Do not hesitate, my son," he rests his hand on my shoulder. "I only wish to speak to the elf who helped bring justice to the rogue Maia. You, are he. I am not the errand runner of the Valar, but they bid me to do this one last journey to set thing accordingly."

"What of the treaty you spoke of, my lord?" I ask politely.

"We will talk further on that matter another day," he smiles as he walks backwards into the shadows. "For now, see to your charge is safe."


End file.
